I borrowed my brother’s copy after he was done, and after a straight 5 hours or so of reading, I’m done with Harry Potter. It took me a bit of time to surface from the deluge, so I’m still pondering whether I really like the book or not.
First of all, it isn’t great. Not masterful, not horrifically tragic, not stupendously inspiring. My first thought was, “it’s finally just done.” I mean, it’s been at least 10 years that I’ve known about the phenomenon, so after all this time, the beginning feels simultaneously long ago (I barely remember even reading the first book) and yet very near. My second thought: “It was ok,” in a “that meal was filling and tasted fine” sense. Perhaps I’m a sentimentalist at heart, but I rather like (mostly) happy endings. My third set of thoughts was more complicated. They were very similar to this review in the Atlantic (there are spoilers after the first paragraph or so). “A children’s story after all.”
In the end, I think I settled somewhere between “I’m glad it’s over” and “I guess I enjoyed parts of it.”
My favorite part about Harry Potter was probably that the world J. K. Rowling constructed was so accessible. Tolkein’s works, though masterful, always had that academic, stuffy, history-tome feel that just made me sleep (I never did get through the Silmarillion). Not only that, but the magic never did have a sense of logic; it was foreign, completely enigmatic. I think that was the point, because then users of magic, like Gandalf, became mythic and inscrutable, a little like Merlin from the Arthurian legends. Phillip Pullman’s world in His Dark Materials was difficult to understand as well, and very creepy. There was just something wrong with it, I can’t really place my finger on it. I think that was intentional, too, in its construction, as the plot was pretty dark and creepy, and from the perspective of the young protagonists, confusing and foreign.
On the other hand, Potterworld was quite charming and friendly, with magic a part of everyday life. There was a degree of casualness that very few other settings had. Magic was common, in a sense, and that made for some very entertaining little details in the world. It wasn’t a rigorous, self-consistent world-system, but just a cartoon of what it would be like to live with magic all around. This friendliness was all, no doubt, designed because the first book or two were meant to make the magical world as inviting as possible to the young audience.
Unfortunately, very little of that was given in the last book, which was a bit disappointing. It was mostly action, with bits of plot-ish-ness in the in-betweens. And, of course, characters die off. It felt formulaic, at times; “oh, she’s offed another one.” Plotting is not J. K. Rowling’s greatest of abilities. But no matter. In the end, the story wrapped up, much in the ways I expected, and then that is that. The series is over. And I’m not unhappy with the way she ended it (even the epilogue, to cap off the whole book of misdeeds, isn’t really that bad).
Now all that has to happen before the second coming is that Robert Jordan actually finish his series. Which may never happen.